


Remembrance Wakes

by within_a_dream



Series: Revelations [4]
Category: Benjamin January Mysteries - Barbara Hambly
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Discussion of sexual assault, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The streets of New Orleans are dangerous, even when one has friends among the guardsmen.</p><p>Occurs concurrently with the end of <i>Vita Dum Superest</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance Wakes

The journey to the wall crawled by as Rose tried to keep her focus on her surroundings rather than her worry. Deaths were inevitable, she knew, but they hadn’t lost anyone since the first attacks. The glimpse she’d caught of Artois as she and Hannibal hurried away blended together with old memories of Antoinette on the ground with her throat torn out.

It was only luck that she herself didn’t end up bleeding on the ground—her distraction was so great that she nearly ran into the town border before seeing that they’d arrived. Rose crept up the stairs, Hannibal trailing behind.

“M’sieu Shaw?” Rose called out, careful to keep her voice low enough not to draw undue attention. “We’ve come with news.”

A meaty hand grabbed Rose’s arm, and she froze, panic rising in her chest. “What’re you doing up here, boy?”

She strained to see his face, and caught sight of rotten teeth and the uniform of the city guard. Even with him behind her, Rose could feel his eyes boring into her, and she prayed to every higher being she believed in and a few she didn’t that he would let her go.

The guard only tightened his grip, moving the other to take Rose’s machete. “Big knife for a little fellow like yourself.”

“I can handle myself.” She shouldn’t have answered, she should have kept silent, but if she didn’t say _something_ , Rose was sure she would explode.

He rested the hilt of the machete against her cheek. “Big knife for a little lady. You oughtta be careful, wandering around in trousers.”

Rose shot a desperate glance at Hannibal, who was watching from a few feet down the wall in horror. “I’ve found they restrict my freedom of movement much less than corsets. Useful, the way this city is nowadays.”

The guard let his other hand brush her hip, and Rose’s breath caught in her throat, memories of a day she’d tried very hard to forget flashing before her eyes.

“Rose!” Hannibal shouted. “ _Te subside!_ ”

She followed his order automatically, breaking the guard’s grip and dropping to the ground. Seconds later a shot rang out, and she felt blood splatter onto her. When Rose sat up, she saw that Hannibal had aimed true. Something in the back of her mind told her she should be upset about seeing a man’s face shot off, but all she felt was relief.

Hannibal was certainly upset—his face had gone white, and sometime after the shot, he’d let the gun fall to the ground. She ought to comfort him, but she still couldn’t find anything but relief for this man’s death, and regret that she hadn’t been able to shoot him herself and save Hannibal the grief.

“Sorry I’m late.” Shaw spoke quietly, and he took in the corpse on the ground without saying anything more. Rose hadn’t seen him arrive.

Hannibal looked between Shaw and the dead guard, eyes wide. “You have to understand…”

“Nothin’ to understand, friend.” Shaw took hold of the man’s legs and dragged him to the edge of the wall. “Looks like Joshua here had too much to drink and fell off the wall tonight. A shame the dead got to him before I could help him up, but at least I got here in time to put him outta his misery.” He tried to lift the body, and frowned. “Hate to ask it, but could one of you give me a hand?”

Rose helped him swing the corpse over the edge of the wall, smiling tight and fierce when she heard it land.

“Were you gonna tell me something afore this unfortunate accident?”

“Benjamin wants to talk to you,” Rose said. “He’s at our house.”

 

Neither Rose nor Hannibal slept well that week. They weren’t alone—with what had happened to Artois, no one in the house did. They offered to let Minou’s party stay as long as they needed, of course, although after a few days Chloë couldn’t bear to walk over the cobblestones where her brother had died any longer.

Rose found herself confiding in Benjamin. Hannibal was one of her dearest friends, but it seemed cruel to go to him with her troubles when he was dealing with his own. Rose had seen the horror on his face when his shot had flown true, and she didn’t think any reassurances that the bastard had deserved to die would comfort him.  

Although it would perhaps be more accurate to say that Benjamin had asked Rose to confide in him, and she had obliged. It did prove a comfort to share her burden with someone else.

He’d sat down beside her in the library one evening, making a show of rifling through a novel but clearly focused on her.

“I’ve been wondering what exactly happened when you and Hannibal left to fetch Shaw,” he asked after a long silence.

Thank God he’d asked her, or she might never have been able to bring herself to talk about it. “Hannibal hasn’t talked to you?” He shook his head, and Rose took a deep breath and continued to speak. “We ran into another guardsman at the wall, and not everyone is as benevolent as our Inspector Shaw. He…threatened me, and in my defense, Hannibal shot him.”

First anger, then concern spread across Benjamin’s face. “I’ve heard nothing about the murder of a guardsman—”

“That would be due to Shaw’s intervention. Given the dead residents of the city, it’s not so difficult to pass a murder off as an accident, or a mercy killing. But the death shook Hannibal—it would have been better if I’d had the chance to stab the bastard before he put my own sword to my throat.”

“It seems it shook you as well.” Benjamin stretched his arm towards Rose, stopping short of taking her hand.

She laid her hand in his palm, grateful for both the gesture and the restraint. “It brought back memories I’d rather have forgotten. It’s been difficult to find my way back to the present, at times.” The solidity of Benjamin’s hand against hers made grounding herself a bit easier.

“It doesn’t seem fair that with all of the inhuman monsters roaming the city, the human ones have remained.”

“Sometimes I think I prefer the dead to the living—at least their violence is predictable.” Rose sighed and settled back into her chair. “Of course, the dead make poor company.”

He laughed softly. “I’m pleased that I provide better conversation than a corpse.” He released her hand, and she felt the cool of the air acutely.

They talked about nothing, about medical advances and chemical reactions and how the living death might spread, until Rose felt human enough to sleep. As she found her way to her bedroom, careful not to wake the girls, she sent up a silent thanks to the universe for leading the paths of so many people to converge here, in this sealed-up house that felt more like home than anything ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first scene of the zombie apocalypse AU I wrote, and then I switched the fic to Ben's POV and had to cut it. But I had so much written that it seemed a shame to never post it.
> 
> Title is from a poem by Oliver Goldsmith.


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